


Tired Eyes and Raw Knuckles

by Comatose



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe - 1920s, French bastards, I Don't Even Know, I know nothing of the roaring twenties, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lowly Dock Worker Enneas and Mobster Alnair, M/M, Sobbing, what the fuck am I doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 15:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comatose/pseuds/Comatose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1920's AU for two French dorks. Enneas Valere is a dock worker who lost his mob leader position due to a mutiny, but was working one day when he saw French entrepreneur Alnair Rynlen on his way to get settled into America. Enneas was immediately head over heels for him, but then realized he didn't stand a chance. Especially now he was living the low life. Eventually he gets the gut to go up and talk to him, and they immediately become friends. The fic takes place not but a few months after Alnair put Enneas in his gang, and is simply a nonsense fic for kicks.<br/>Alnair isn't mine and I probably wrote his personality all wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tired Eyes and Raw Knuckles

The quiet noise of the rain on the stained glass windows was the thing that brought the peace that evening. Excluding quiet conversation here and there, it was eerily quiet. Too quiet. Enneas dug around in the pocket of his coat, and pulled out a cigarette, and some matches. Giving a tiny scowl, he dug around a bit more, and even checked his other pocket. Must have left his cigarette holder at the speakeasy again. It wasn't a big deal, he'd get it back sooner or later. Well, he hoped. He didn't think any soul was dumb enough to steal something so low value. Holding the cigarette loosely between his lips, he took out a match and struck it on the table. Burning his hand, he inhaled sharply and murmured a curse. The match now had a flame, but he was granted scolding looks by a few of Alnair's rough 'n' tumble, hired thugs. He supposed it was his own fault he hadn't been paying good attention. Besides, they weren't all of 'em bad guys, just not too bright.

Lighting up the cigarette and putting out the match with a few flicks of his wrist, a teeny bit of smoke came from the dead match. Enneas tossed it into an ash tray. For a while he just sat there, lapis-blue eyes glued to those beautiful windows. He wouldn't admit it, but he thought it was the most stunning thing in the whole world at night, when the moon was high and the shadows were the muted colors of the stained glass. A man spoke up, and broke the silence. “We got any booze?” Another piped up just as quickly. “Dry up, Charlie. We've been on the lam since last month, we ain't got any.” The one who'd made slick at poor Charlie, was Dean Marcus, one of the men best at distracting the bull. He wasn't anything polite to the younger members of the gang, but he was respected. Charlie mumbled something practically inaudible back, and Enneas could tell it wasn't all that mannerly.

Apparently, Dean had heard what he said and immediately got to his feet. Dean had his voice raised, and was making quite the scene. Charlie got right up too, and started yelling back. Normally, Enneas would have found the entire situation a waste of time, and probably would have left. But now was different. He gave a tiny grin; a silent chuckle, and took a drag on his cigarette, attention focused now on the yelling men. However, Enneas hadn't got to watch for long before he felt a firm hand on his shoulder. “What's so funny?” It was a growl, and from one of the gang's more notoriously known thugs. Enneas could feel eyes on him, and he shrugged the man's hand off of him, and gave a forced grin. ”Pipe down, and don't be such a pill.”

In a swift movement, the thug had Enneas up by the collar of his shirt. Now, it was no doubt Enneas was a pretty big guy himself, but the thug didn't have height on him, he had strength. “I know you ain't who you said you was.” Enneas slowly brought his hand to his side, reaching for his pistol. Enneas narrowed his eyes, and gave a bit of a struggle. “I think you're spifflicated, sap. How's about you take a sit-down?” The thug was now visibly angry. “I oughta' beat the teeth right outta' your slick mouth.” No one objected, although Enneas could hear the yelling of the two other men in the background.

The stronger man had raised his free fist to strike Enneas, but was stopped when Enneas pulled the gun. He let go of the other male, and took a few steps back, hands raised in a defensive manner. Throughout all this, Enneas had kept his cigarette, now clenched tightly between his teeth. There was quiet for a few seconds. With his blue eyes narrowed, he pursed his lips tightly, Enneas made his decision; and shot the thug square in the foot. The stronger man had let out a cry, and fallen to the floor. You could hear a few objections and angry sounds from other men, but it was mainly the sound of the thug's groaning after the gunshot.

Taking the cigarette in the hand that held the gun, Enneas swept the gun visibly across the room, and spoke up so he could be heard over the arguing men. “Any other bimbo wanna' step up, and try me?” Silence. Still holding the gun, he grabbed a chair, pulled it up to the thug, and sat down. Enneas pressed the heel of his shoe on the wound of the man, and he had given a visible grimace. Placing his elbow on his knee, and his gun-wielded hand aimed towards the thug's head, Enneas lent down. “I don't want any funny business, you hear?” The thug had no choice but to listen, and swallowed hard, giving a compliant nod.

 

Enneas always had thought Alnair's office was absolutely beautiful. He used to have such pretty stained glass windows; until they were shot up by the rival gang anyway. To be honest, Enneas knew he'd lost his temper on the poor man from earlier that day, but he feared his safety. That thug deserved the hole in his foot. That was why he was brought in to Alnair- head honcho, big shot, mob leader. Enneas loved him. Maybe he knew, maybe he didn't. Regardless, Enneas knew he had to hold onto his hopes that he at least had some chance.

The pricy looking paintings up and around the room were ones painted by Alnair himself. He had at the very first noticed Alnair had talent. And yet, with such expertise, he chose to take a life of crime? Enneas almost laughed. What a preposterous thought! The daily buzz was no fun, life needed a little spice; and the mob had plenty. After the thought drifted away, he gave a quiet, and impatient sigh. The blue-eyed male glanced around the room a bit more. He hated waiting, but he supposed he'd take that to mind once he got his position in his gang back.

He didn't want to think about it now though. It made him furious just remembering it, he'd always knew that the kid was something awful, even for gangster standards. But he hadn't in the slightest the little piker would try and bump him off. Enneas felt himself broiling, and he had crossed his arms and clasped his hands tight enough to leave bruises. Giving a few deep breaths, he regained himself, and leaned almost sleepily on his palm.

As if on queue, Alnair entered the room, talking to some hard-boiled looking ruffian, new presumably. Enneas stiffened and turned to his boss, he immediately went serious, looking through narrowed eyes at the man. Not Alnair of course. He seemed unfazed, “Why's this sap in 'ere?” He'd grumbled, and looked questioningly to Alnair. Alnair didn't speak, but looked to Enneas to give his own explanation.

“Are you the new muscle for the gang?” Enneas asked in a firm voice, lightly tilting his head. The thug crossed his arms.“Yeah. Who's askin'?” The blue-eyed male gave a surprisingly sinister grin, “The last muscle that gave me gum like that got bullet through his skid.” The thug gave a grunt of disbelief, “Says you!” Alnair seemed shocked, but more or less fuming. He intruded in quickly, “You're telling me it wasn't the rivals that left Claude on crutches?” Oops. Enneas gave a half shrug, “He started the scrap, and I finished it.” Alnair seemed to be trying very hard not to raise his voice in disbelief as he dismissed the new thug.

As soon as he left, Alnair turned around, visibly upset. It wasn't sad upset, it was frustrated upset. “Did you really have to shoot someone? Again? For what, the second time?” Enneas kept a flat-line expression the best he could, and held up triple digits, trying not to laugh. “Third actually.” Alnair made a frustrated noise, and a heavy sigh. “These stiffs need paid, Enne! I can't just keep hiring new men left and right, especially not with, with the rivals at large!” Even if his boss was angry, (and with good right) Enneas thought it was nice when he slipped up and used his little pet-name. 

“Now, now, there's no need for a fuss.” Getting up from his seat, and stretching a bit, Enneas tried to put on his charm. “I'll pay his debt, aright? Don't sweat it boss, I'll take full responsibility for this.” Voice smooth and stance relaxed, Enneas tried to get the point across it wasn't anything to get hot-headed over. It didn't do much, but Alnair seemed to lighten, and he didn't look anywhere near Enneas. The blue-eyed male continued on over to his superior man, and placed on a charismatic smile. “You still mad about Claude?” Alnair crossed his arms, and still didn't look up. “No worries, okay? How's about I go on out and round us up some bootleg, yeah?” 

 

Alnair gave a small smile, but didn't look at Enneas. The slightly taller male continued on, quirking a brow, smile widening all at the same time. “Remember when we first met?” This broke Alnair, and he laughed, granting the other male eye-contact.“You were beaten and bleeding something awful, and downing gin like there was no tomorrow.” It wasn't a lie either, after he'd gotten roughed up, the first place he went to was a speakeasy. Enneas let a little of a true grin shine through, and he felt glad he'd been able to get his boss happy again. It wasn't a kiss-up sort of ordeal, he just liked Alnair happy.

SUPER WIP BECAUSE I'M LAME

**Author's Note:**

> 20's Vocab Time because a lot of this junk was probably misunderstood.
> 
> Dry up - Shut up/Stop talking  
> On the lam - Fleeing from the police  
> The Bull - The police  
> Pill - An unlikeable person  
> Spifflicated - Profusely drunk  
> Bimbo - Tough guy  
> Hard-Boiled - Tough looking guy  
> Skid - Foot  
> Speakeasy - An illicit bar selling bootleg liquor


End file.
